Summary

A fetish man enjoys his dream job as a rancher for men.

Rancher Ellis loved his job. Some might call him insane or a sadist and he supposed the latter was true. It was one for the qualifications of the job that had seen him headhunted from the hardcore BDSM bar he frequented as a leather top. He had previously toured with the army but at the time he had worked for private security. He wasn’t sure who had found him, maybe they had hacked his credit card and found his membership details. In the end it didn’t matter, once they had learned enough about him to deem him suitable they had briefed him on the project and he had accepted. He was now getting paid to do what he loved: dominating men.

In the club he had loved finding the men who didn’t know they wanted to be controlled and he would seduce them into being tied up. Once he had them just where he wanted them he had relished taking his time in taking them apart, teasing them, making them hurt in just the right ways. Once they had a taste of him they wanted more and he had amassed a selection of boys who he trained up to be bondage subs. He was a leader of his little harem, just like he had been in the army, and loved it.

But it wasn’t just dominating them, it was owning them. It could be a great high and confidence boosting to fully control another man but it was also a lot of hard work. He had to keep them healthy and make sure they were well taken care of. Their psychological wellbeing was not something he could control too well but he could see to their physical health. His new job had him taking on a whole new level of dominance and ownership which had been like a revelation for him and his sex life.

The new bull (he never learned their previous names if he could help it) was a nice one, probably an athlete or someone who just took care of themselves. He wasn’t part of acquisitions, although he had applied for some shifts on their team, so he knew nothing at all except they had been selected for their sperm production estimates. Stripping the unconscious form he examined the testicles and found them to be nice and round, drawn up tight to the body. They would be unconscious for a few more hours, plenty of time for him to get his work done and if he should need more he could drip feed them a sedative.

Once stripped of all clothing the bull was given a thorough wash. Ellis didn’t need to do this himself, he was in charge of a team, but he thought it was important to know the bulls he oversaw. His team went over every inch, trimming the nails and shaving off the hair as they went. The next stage was another wash with a special chemical for hair removal, it was lathered all over the body and left for thirty minutes which would be torture if the bull were awake, it itched like hell, but by the time it was washed off there would be no hair at all on their entire body—not even eyebrows.

Now the bull was clean they could put the harness on. It was a series of straps and harnesses that would restrain the bull securely in a position that would allow the ranchers to see to their needs. The basic position was a crouch but elevated above the floor by a steel frame which the harnesses would be attached to. The arms were strapped behind the back to keep them out of the way and thrust the chest forward. The legs are spread to expose the genitals. The position leaves the bull feeling quite vulnerable and this new one will probably go through the same stages of distress as the others.

Seeing as the bull’s opinions no longer matter they will not be awake for the more intense parts of their installation—but some have been known to wake up during this stage. This can make the procedure quite difficult but Ellis has never given the order for them to be sedated and none of his men have ever suggested it. He knows it is because they all get off on it, the Ranch is only staffed by men and none of them are even bisexual, only gay.

The first part is the rear waste pipe and prostate stimulator. Quite simply the penis shaped nozzle is inserted and locked into place with a narrower section for the anal sphincter to rest on and an inflated section on either side to prevent its dislodgement. It is a foot long and three inches across to maximise the stimulation area. It can be difficult to get in and lots of lubricant can be involved.

Secondly the milking machine is hooked up. The bulk of the device is mounted to the base of the frame below the bull but the nozzles are attached to the penis and nipples. The nipple suckers look just like the penis suckers and anyone not aware of the transformation that will take place would be baffled as to why this is. They are held in place by small claws that dig into the skin at the base of their targets, not very comfortable but the best way to keep them in place. The penis sucker has a special pipe for going down the urethra which can be traded out later for wider, more heavy duty ones. It is inserted all the way down to the ball sack.

The penultimate touch it to insert canulas into the bull’s arms. They will provide the drugs and other nutrients for the bull’s development but the food and protein will be delivered orally. The final part is the insertion of a tube down the throat, far enough to trigger and surpass the gag reflex. It is locked in place with a padlocked strap and will keep the mouth open and their voice silent. The finishing touch was just electro-stimulation pads placed across the body to force the body to feel pleasure.

Once the new bull is integrated Ellis dismisses his staff (who are allowed to watch through the surveillance cameras if they want) and sits on a stool in front of the bull and waits for them to wake.

The bull that was once known as Jack Mason wakes up confused and afraid, as all bulls both before and after him have done. He finds himself in a strange place in a strange position: Suspended and restrained by leather straps. He thrashes and bucks to no success; the straps are firm and at just the right tightness to be comfortable while not allowing for escape. There is an intrusion in his ass and cock and a pinching on his nipples. There is also something down his throat and he gags and chokes on it at first.

“Do your best to breathe normally.”

Jack looks up to see a man sat before him who he hadn’t noticed in his panic. The man was dressed in leather chaps around a leather jock and above that an unbuttoned leather waistcoat showing hard pectorals and chiselled abs. a pair of big boots were on his feet and a cowboy hat on his head. He was handsome with a full beard and although Jack was straight he could admit this man was hot—or rather he would have if he hadn’t been screaming into the gag at him. He did however follow the advice and try to breathe through his nose and the tube—it wasn’t connected to anything and was open to the air. Jack was powerless and had never felt more vulnerable. He was straight and had never even fooled about with his ass before but now he felt like he had a whole arm shoved up there.

The man stood and walked calmly over to him. He put one hand on his head—shaved, he realised—and the other on his back and stroked in what might have been soothing in other circumstances. “It’s okay to be scared, that’s perfectly normal, but you should know that no harm will come to you here. In fact, we’re going to take good care of you. You’re now part of the herd, a bull of the Ranch, and that means you are our responsibility. We take that very seriously.

“Now, to explain just what it means to be a bull of the Ranch, long ago an alien race came to Earth. They were just curious about us but found out that a man’s semen is highly intoxicating to them, like alcohol is to us. So they made our governments a deal: they would give us protection if we would give them mancum. Well, obviously, it was a no-brainer. It was only after the deal was made it was realised that they wanted a huge amount of the stuff and how were we going to get it? So these Ranches were built, where men would be taken to produce for their planet. Men are selected at random and, if deemed suitable, brought here to be harvested of your natural resource. So long as the men are fit and healthy and believed to be big on semen production the selection is indiscriminate.

“It is an honour to serve, you are helping to save your planet. But make no mistake, you are no longer a man. You are a Bull, this has been a secret law of the whole world for decades now, you have no rights any more and are effectively cattle. You are never going to leave this place, you are milked until your body gives out.”

Jack couldn’t believe this, it was too crazy. It had to be a joke, some kind of twisted set up by his brothers. But as he took stock of the equipment that had been attached to his body he knew that wasn’t true. They may love pranks but this was too invasive—their was a pipe in his dick, for fuck sake.

“There is only one more decision in life you get to make, and that is: do you want your new life to be a miserable one? Let me show you the milking floor.”

The Rancher then took out a remote control and proceeded to drive the frame about on wheels beneath the frame Jack couldn’t see. He was driven forward through a pair of doors and onto what he could only assume was the milking floor. It was horrific, never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought a place like this might exist. Rows upon rows of trussed up men just like himself stretching on for as far as he could see. He screamed again at the sight of men swaying and shaking in their harnesses as they were milked, the tubes from their cocks running white with semen. The smell was rank and the air was filled with their moans and groans. Tubes ran from every bull to pipes along the floor, whole rivers of semen were being transported across the room. Jack understood why this was a Ranch.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

“As you can see the semen production has been improved upon. A man can only give so much so we had to make modifications. There are drugs to enhance male’s sperm production but this requires it on an industrial scale. These are no longer men, they are bulls, just giving milk.”

Cows, more like, thought Jack, one of the few coherent thoughts he had had since waking. The milked men had testicles of various sizes; some were the size of footballs, others were like beach balls. It was almost comical to see such huge balls hanging there. The cocks above them were hard and swollen to odd lengths too with their urethra stretched around the tube through which the milk—cum, semen, not milk!—was being stolen from them.

“This bull here,” said the man stopping by one of the bulls, “he’s been here for going on ten years now, look at the size of those beauties.” He bent down, showing off his own round asscheeks as he ran his hands around the bull’s ball which were the size of beanbags. The bull shuddered at the touch and keened into the gag. “And the nipples too, with the right cocktail of drugs they can produce semen too.” With a fresh wave of horror Jack saw that the nipples of the bull were like another two cocks on its chest, three inches long and an inch wide and producing a sluggish white cream which was paped away with everything else.

“Now, as for that decision,” the Rancher continued as he resumed directing the frame along the rows. “You see, we’re not complete monsters, we know this isn’t hugely ethical so we have a way of making this more humane. There is a drug we can give you to kill off your higher brain functions. You can be reduced to a true bull if you want; no worrying about your old life or wanting freedom. You can just let yourself be pleasured for the rest of your days.”

Jack looked into the eyes of the men and saw how they were glazed over. One or two of them stared into the distance like they had escaped were somewhere else but most were vacant and rutting away in their suspension. They were animals in mind and body.

“Now, you may not get asked this again. See this guy?” Jack’s attention was drawn to a bull who looked like he could kill with his bare hands. If all of the men here were cows then this one really was a bull, he was built like a brick shithouse. “Used to be a navy SEAL, kill count as long as your arm and service record to make any father proud.” The Rancher patted the bull on the back and was met with a glare which had little heat in it. “But when he was selected that didn’t matter. He chose to keep his mind, no doubt he thought he could escape. That was five years ago, now he’s got no chance of leaving this place even if he wanted to. We like to keep him in his right mind as a warning to newcomers that it can sometimes be better to give in.”

The bull who had once fought for his country with pride made eye contact with Jack. He could tell what he was trying to tell him with eyes alone.

“And this is you,” the Rancher directed Jack into an empty slot and ‘parked’ him. A few other men appeared, dressed just as the first, and hooked him up to the pipes. He was installed now, there really was no escape. “So before we set the system running and you start adding to our milk vats, do you want to remain human, or do you want to be a bull?”

Jack took a look around the room. He was surrounded by what once had been men but were now living cum factories. If this was to be the rest of his life he didn’t want it but there was no way out. If a navy SEAL couldn’t escape and there was no way to end his own life and if this was set up by the government there would be no way this would be made public. There was only one way he could live like this.

He made eye contact with the Rancher and, putting all the emotion into his eyes to convey his decision, he nodded.

Ellis smiled at the bull’s decision, he never liked leaving them to suffer in this torment. They would be so much happier as bulls in mind as well as body. He nodded to his men and they set up the drugs on the frame and hooked them up to the bull. They would take a while to kick in but until then the bull would be stimulated; the bull would be edged to the brink of cumming repeatedly, stimulated all over the body, until the computer decided it was time to begin. By then the bull’s mind would be on the way out and it would be able to enjoy itself.

The machine began and suddenly the bull bucked as the machine started stimulating him. The anal pipe vibrated and pulsed against his prostate and his cock was squeezed and massaged. His nipples were tweaked and all the parts of the body known to be sensitive were worked by the intuitive machine. It would only get better as it learned how to get the most of out this bull.

Once it was all set up the team left and, after kissing his new bull on the forehead, so did he, striding among his bulls and drinking in the sounds they made. He was rock hard and had a river of precum down his leg. Sometimes he wished he could fuck the bulls themselves but it was strictly forbidden and he knew better than to break the rules. His superiors liked to pretend to be ethical but he knew it was all bullshit, there was nothing ethical about this. If he wanted to fuck them over like they were then maybe one day he would. One day.

Ellis loved bringing in new bulls, it made him feel like a MAN, like he had balls their size, like a bull. He would have to drop by the club tonight, find some hot fresh piece of ass for himself to pound, he couldn’t find it in him to go slow and sedate after this; he needed to fuck his own seed up an ass. Perhaps he would find his new bondage boy and show him a good time. He would need a good time as the rest of the week was going to be a nightmare for him after the disappearance of his brother. To say it was a ‘random’ system it sure was easy to manipulate.

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